Chapter Fourteen

Aamon

"What are we doing out here?" Thorne asks, but I don't miss the look of awe in his eyes.

The path to the fields is one I seldom take, though today feels full of promise. A promise of true and better change. The air is laced with the earthy aroma of fertile soil and tinged with perspiration. Seeing Thorne's untapped potential gives me hope. Perhaps once he is safely back in his realm, we can maintain a mutually beneficial relationship.

As we crest the hill, vast expanses of fields spread before us. The rows of crops are in various phases of life, some beginning to sprout, others nearly ready to be harvested, and yet the majority are withering and decaying. The workers, souls condemned to this circle of Hell, move along the fields in mechanical precision, weary from hours of torment in the heat.

"These fields sustain the people in this city." I gesture to the fields below us. "Unfortunately, we have been in a drought, and the fields are producing far less than usual."

The souls trapped here are still in need of provisions. Even if trapped in an endless cycle of misery, I am their ruler. Hunger is a torment that, as of late, I have been failing to rectify. Instead, I've been borrowing from other Goetia whose crops are better.

I glance at Thorne's face, studying the way his brow furrows in thought. He's perceptive and knows just why he's been brought here. The realization dawns rather instantly, with a flicker in his chestnut eyes.

"You want me to help with the fields?" Thorne turns to face me, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. "Why do you care if they eat or starve?"

I consider my response carefully, trying to shove away the ache in my heart at the thought that I'm perceived as such a monster.

"It's true that these souls come to Hell to be tormented by their own desires, but hunger is a cruelty they don't deserve." Pausing, I look over the field as a harvester speeds through one row, churning black smoke into the air. "It's within my power, Thorne, to ease that burden, and it's within yours as well."

Thorne turns his gaze back to the fields, inhaling in frustration. "So the imps who came to speak about the fields were real?"

"Yes, of course they were. The imps and souls here know I'm their master. I maintain the fields, the casinos and all the various things a city needs to flourish. I may appear cruel, and the souls may suffer here, but they know I do this only because it is part of their atonement. As strange as this may sound to you, I'm never unnecessarily cruel."

The temptation to stare at Thorne tugs at me relentlessly, but I keep my eyes on the fields and beyond, in the trees. This city is mine to govern, and I genuinely care about the people who live here. I wish for nothing more than for them to flourish and grow. Often, the sinners here don't learn from their mistakes and continue their own destructive cycle, but many become members of society here just as the imps are.

"What do you gain from my help?" Thorne asks, his voice a whisper.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips as he questions and probes deeper into my motivations. Perhaps he has an internal struggle, but there is an allure in using his magic to aid others. It was, after all, why he created this pact between us. He is altruistic to his very core.

"Perhaps there is nothing I gain but to help feed my people. Maybe there is also a satisfaction in knowing that your new power is harnessed effectively." The smile on my lips grows, and a warmth overtakes my chest. "Regardless, the outcome is the same. These people will benefit from the help you give them. You benefit from learning to harness your new skills, and I am forever grateful to you for it."

The moment stretches for far too long until I give in, glancing at Thorne from the corner of my eye. The moment he notices, he steps forward to the crest, peering down among the people with resolve. "I'll help."

That warmth in my chest grows once more, though I refuse to name it. I lead him then from the hill down into the valley from an old stone stairwell. Once we're next to one of the dying fields, I finally speak again.

"Take off your shoes," I instruct him, watching as he does as ordered. He closes his eyes once the soil comes into contact with his toes. I sense it must feel comforting to him, as the tension in his shoulders melts away.

"Now what?" he asks, though he maintains eye contact upon the dying crops instead of me or any of the workers.

This is entirely out of my purview as a Goetia. My skillset has very little to do with growing anything, though necromancy may have similarities. That helps me understand how I may best instruct him. "Focus on the threads of life within the soil, the nutrients and its potential."

Thick eyelashes close again. This time, a furrow etches across his brow in concentration, and a frown turns down his lips.

"Let your magic flow into the earth and allow it to respond to your emotional state."

As he exhales a breath, I sense his hesitancy across our bond, so I step closer to him, placing a hand upon his shoulder as an anchor. "You can do this, Thorne," I say tenderly against the shell of his ear.

Soft green magic surges from his fingertips into the ground. Slowly, the roots beneath us creak, groan, and the crops begin to sway in an unknown wind. The workers pause, their work entirely forgotten as they stare in awe at Thorne. Inch by inch the plants lengthen, their vines strengthening with new vitality. The fruits begin to grow plumper instead of shriveled, dried husks.

"Open your eyes, Thorne," I say in approval. "You've done so well."

He does so immediately, opening them to the sight of a verdant green field with imps and souls alike standing around awestruck. They all erupt into cheers, whistles and applause at the work done to their fields. As I peek at Thorne's face I notice a blush inching across his cheeks at the acclaim, embarrassed by the attention he rightly deserves.

An urge to call him a good boy tingles on my tongue. I swallow it down along with the desire that churns beneath my skin, aching to kiss him.

"It feels so strange to help these people." Thorne's expression is thoughtful, and lurking beneath it is an air of disbelief that he alone managed such a feat.

"Why, because they are undeserving?"

Shifting to face me, he smiles softly, shaking his head from side to side in disagreement. "No, it's only that I've always felt unable to give aid to anyone prior to this. I often felt a burden to my grandmother. I was relegated to the greenhouse more often than not."

Scooping my arm around his waist, I jerk him closer to my side, peering down at him with pride. "You are never a burden, and I will never allow you to forget that."

Even with all my workers' eyes on me, I sweep him into my arms in a bridal carry. Thorne immediately gasps, but a hint of laughter twinkles behind his eyes. "Set me down!" He pathetically swats against my chest, and I immediately recognize it for the act it is.

"We have more I want to do today, and your tiny mortal legs aren't quick enough."

As we leave the fields behind, I finally know the name of the feeling inside my chest. I was enamored with Thorne, and I wanted him for more than just his body, or the mana we could exchange. What I desire is his companionship for who I truly am and not the persona I previously displayed.